Metaphorically Awkward
by spacemonkey69
Summary: Joey's moved back in with Chandler and it's an awkward situation. Set Season Two, Chanoey slash. Please read and review.


I've decided to wander back in, post a Chanoey story and wander back out for another month. It's what I do :) So, hi ya'all! How's everyone been? I've missed you all very muchly. Group hug!! So, this is Chanoey, set Season 2, after Joey moved back in and naturally I made it all a lot more angsty than it needed and such . . .and it's rambly. So yeah, please enjoy? I love you all!!

* * *

Eddie was gone, Joey was back where he belonged, and it was all very awkward and 'no, please, I _insist, _you use the can first. I can hold it.' Neither of them thought to go next door to use the girls' toilet. That thought pattern only applied when awkwardness wasn't in the air.

Chandler hated it. He had Joey back, and he and Joey had never been awkward. Except that one time, but that was the day they met, and it was _expected _of first meetings that they be awkward and uncomfortable and generally rushed because who the hell wants to spend another minute with someone who thinks you're gay? Especially when you could be spending _plenty _of minutes with guy who has porn star for a sister.

Spend time with the guy who has a porn star for a sister in a totally non gay way, of course.

But Chandler had drifted way off the subject, and he and Joey had only been awkward that one time. Nothing a bit of _Baywatch _couldn't fix.

Chandler was pretty sure they were past _Baywatch _fixing though, and that was the most horrible realization he'd had all his life. Period. Even more horrifying than . . .

Well, his entire childhood, for one.

Joey moving out had hurt. A lot more than Chandler had thought it would. Not that he'd applied much thought to Joey leaving him in the first place.

Leaving the _apartment_, not leaving him. Joey wasn't his. He wasn't Joey's, and it wasn't an abandonment factor, not in the slightest.

Chandler kept trying to convince himself that.

* * *

Chandler had all but figured out the awkwardness.

It was an abandonment factor, and he couldn't help but metaphorically hang his head at the realization. What the hell, he might have physically hung his head as well; Joey was too busy being anywhere but here at the moment to notice, because there was that whole awkwardness thing going on, and not being there was easier than 'no, _really, _my bladder is that good and I _can _hold it. You go first!'

Chandler was scared that he was gonna piss Joey off in some way, and Joey would pack up his things and his stupid huge white dog, and _leave._

He just wasn't sure if his pathetic little heart could take that. Not again. Especially if it came with another psycho roommate. Besides, in the few days since the stupid huge white dog had moved in, Chandler had kinda gotten used to it's presence, even if it did only come out when Ross was here. Which, in the few days since, was hardly never. Ross much preferred Mon's. Mon had the decency to feed her brother. And the talent to boot.

But the stupid huge white dog was there, and Chandler and it – perhaps even Chandler and _him, _although he hadn't looked close enough to see if it was a boy or a girl dog – we're developing a . . .

He couldn't even say it, because he really couldn't care less about the stupid huge white dog. But it was Joey's, and if the dog left, that meant Joe was gone too.

He'd definitely gotten used to Joey's presence. And they were back to that whole abandonment thing again, but Chandler couldn't quite bring himself to dance around that realization for too long. That lasted all of twenty minutes; Chandler loved to do his victory dance, never passed up an opportunity, even if this dance was more one of failure and defeat.

It still had all the same movements, just with the look of sheer angst replacing his over the top grin.

* * *

Joey didn't pack his things, and the next time Ross came around, they brought the dog out together. Chandler still didn't check to see if it was a boy. Sometimes assuming something was better than being a freaky pervert. Even if the accuser was made of porcelain.

He supposed he should have looked to find a penis though, he certainly couldn't find his own; it had been lost somewhere between his dad and the pool boy, and now; not having the cojones to sit down and talk with Joey about their little problem. They were guys, and guys don't talk, especially not when the talk could end with Chandler on his knees, arms wrapped around Joey's legs, lips begging, "Please, don't ever leave me again."

Yeah, he definitely needed to find his penis, if he was even _thinking _about doing that.

So they didn't talk. Not like that, anyway. There was 'pass the salt' and 'want another beer?' and 'Dude, check out the size of this bear!', because they liked salt and beer with their dinner, and even the most awkward of situations couldn't stop Joey from commenting while flipping through _National Geographic._

Chandler liked to think that he could fix things; of course they would fix things, they were Joey and Chandler! And really, what was there to fix, it wasn't like they'd broken up or anything.

Chandler didn't let his mind linger on that last thought, because he'd never been in a relationship as long as he had with Joey, so he couldn't really know what it felt like.

And he'd just referred to him and Joey as being in a relationship. To hell with metaphorically hanging his head, or even physically doing so, Chandler had to resort to banging the damn thing against a wall.

He'd forgotten Joey was there, and got a look and a 'Dude, what the hell are you doing?' which Chandler couldn't help but think was better than 'pass the salt'. He even considered banging his head again, to keep Joey talking and concerned, but it kinda hurt his head, so he flopped down on the couch and muttered something about bad life insurance.

Joey gave him a sideways glance that went on for so long it turned into a sideways stare. Chandler felt another 'you go first, I insist' only this time it was getting desperate and he was hopping around on one leg, trying not to pee all over the place while both he and Joey gestured with one hand, because it was polite to let the other use the bathroom first.

Awkardness, thy name is Joey and Chandler.

* * *

If he was going to place blame, and Chandler knew he already had – on himself, but this wasn't going to turn into another spiel about how he _loathed _himself – then he knew he had to blame Eddie. Or that guy who had brought up the apartment in the first place to Joey, who was as impressionable as Courtney Love was high.

But Chandler couldn't even remember that guys name so it had to be Eddie's fault, because his eggs had been just as nice as Joey's. And jeez, had that argument been a doozy, but Chandler wasn't going to think about it, because only people in relationships argued like that, and he and Joey were just in an odd place in their hopefully-non-abandonment friendship. _Friendship _being the operative word in that sentence.

Damnit, he meant optional. Wait . . .

Chandler had to blame that on the lack of sleep from his freaking, just like he blamed the whole thing on Eddie. But damnit once more, because it was supposed to be _better _with Joey here, and besides all the abandonment hoo-ha, he just couldn't figure out why he'd just peed all over the floor waiting for Joey to go first.

And he'd been the one to say he liked Eddie's eggs to Joey's face, and the one to just now realize that most of the awkwardness wasn't coming from Joey. Well, there was a bit, because Joey wasn't well equipped to deal with Chandler peeing on the floor, both metaphorically and physically, and _God, _Chandler hoped he never actually peed on the floor.

But that was beside the point, because the only awkwardness coming from Joey was from that, and mostly there was just confusion. That seemed right; Joey was never one to get his panties in a twist, especially seeing he wore neither panties or even underwear, but he _was _one to get confused often. He usually had Chandler to help him out though, and he didn't, _couldn't _have that this time, because Chandler just didn't know why.

He was sure there was one thing they could agree on: This whole thing was completely and one hundred percent stupid and pointless and . . .

What was the word he was looking for? Oh yeah, awkward.

And they were back to him _loathing _himself, because it was all him baby.

* * *

Joey was making an effort, and the effort was Knicks tickets. Chandler didn't even want to know where he'd gotten the money to pay for them; the after effects of having your character fall down an elevator shaft didn't usually involve bucket loads of money, which was one of the hopefully many reasons Joey had moved back in.

God, Chandler hoped there were many reasons, and he knew he sounded needy and desperate and a little bit weird, but the point was, he didn't want to know where the money had come from. The tickets were there anyway, and they were going because Chandler knew it would be good for them, perhaps there would be something there that wasn't 'pass the salt'.

He was pretty sure with his mental state, there would be Joey shouting 'Knicks rule!' while Chandler was being aired on the jumbo screen staring blankly and getting booed for not enjoying the potentially awesome game in front of him.

Yeah, he was insane, but that one little thing was eating at him, picking at his brain like a jackal because he was missing _something_.

For a night, he attempted to forget about that one thing he couldn't even think of, and they went to the game. Chandler found himself actually paying attention and hell, even enjoying himself while Joey shouted in his ear and he shouted right back; because the Knicks went on to win by twelve points.

Sure, they drank too much. Not at the game, but at the bar that followed the game, and there was almost easy conversation. Chandler was beginning to suspect that the awkwardness had stemmed from the _apartment _and maybe they should just move, or swap with the girls; Monica and Rachel could use a little hating on each other once in a while, it wasn't normal for girls to not have daily cat fights.

At least, that's what he and Joey decided in the cab on the way back to their cursed apartment, and Chandler was practically sticking his head out the window and _singing _because they were aiming words in each others general direction, and neither of them were jumping around waiting for the other to pee.

Chandler knew he really had to stop with that metaphor.

In the end, he decided that it could stay for a while longer; hell, he decided he couldn't care less, because once they got back to their damn evil apartment, the talking stopped for the most part.

Joey was the one to stop the talking this time though, and Chandler couldn't figure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because Joey had stopped it with his _lips_. And they were on _Chandler's _lips.

It was all very . . .

The word he was looking for was awkward of course, but only for the first few seconds, and then Chandler was drunkenly kissing back because suddenly it all _clicked_.

Later, he realized that Joey had been the one to figure it all out - Chandler didn't quite know what to make of _that, _much as he loved Joey – that the awkwardness hadn't stemmed from the apartment, not even in the slightest.

Unresolved Sexual Tension, thy name is Joey and Chandler.

Well . . . make that resolved.


End file.
